


I Feel Most Alive When I'm Almost Dead

by KahtyaSofia



Category: Hurt Locker (2008)
Genre: Character of Color, First Time, M/M, Military, Missing Scene, Yuletide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-12-24
Updated: 2009-12-24
Packaged: 2017-10-05 05:48:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,784
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/38417
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KahtyaSofia/pseuds/KahtyaSofia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A missing scene of conflict and confrontation between James and Sanborn.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Feel Most Alive When I'm Almost Dead

**Author's Note:**

  * For [gardinha](https://archiveofourown.org/users/gardinha/gifts).



> I took on this story as a last minute pinch-hit for Yuletide. I wrote it in an hour and a half and two betas had it read for me within an hour. I made the uploading deadline. This was also my first ever Hurt Locker fic. For all of these reasons, con crit is welcome. I keep thinking that If I'd had more time I'd have done a better job.

 

Will parked the Humvee. Sanborn and he slid silently out of it and headed for their billets. They’d been silent since their brief conversation about life and death and Will had come away with no more understanding of his own needs and motivations than he’d had before.

His ears were still ringing from the detonation that had almost, but not quite, been the end of him. Will’s skin was over-sensitive, every touch and every slight breeze amplified and shooting angry signals to his brain. He clenched his hands into fists to hide their trembling. It wasn’t fear; it was a remaining excess of adrenaline. Will took another hit of the contraband alcohol from the small water bottle and hoped it would help. Some part of him knew it wouldn’t. Maybe a shower would help him ease down the rest of the way.

Will stared at his own haunted reflection in the mirror. He was caked with sweat, sand and blood. It reminded him of how he’d last seen Sanborn, sitting beside him in the Humvee and struggling with his own mortality. JT thought that having a son would give his life meaning and a measure of immortality. Will knew he was wrong. Just look at that poor bastard who’d died today. He had sons but he’d still died alone in a dusty street with someone else’s agenda strapped to his body.

Will shook himself from his stupor and turned to run the shower. Stripping down and stepping into the tepid water, letting it run over him, it sluiced away the blood and the grime but left his own jitteriness in place. His skin still crawled along his body and he wanted – needed – to _do_ something. He didn’t know what – drink, cry, fight or fuck.

He reached down and gripped his cock, still half-hard from the excess adrenaline. He gave it a few hard strokes and groaned. Will was vaguely aware of someone coming into the showers, but he ignored their presence. Everyone did this in the showers and they all knew it. Soldiers became immune to the sounds of one another jacking off in the shower stalls.

Propping himself against the stall with one hand and jerking his cock with the other. He made it quick. It was a means to an end, this time, and not for the pleasure of it. He came with a loud grunt and a low groan, watching his spunk mix with the water and run away. Will lathered up and rinsed off mechanically, all higher brain function thankfully shut down.

Stepping out of the stall, Will wrapped the shitty excuse for a towel around his hips and stared at himself once again in the mirror. He ached to hurt something and it didn’t matter if it was himself or someone else.

The occupant of another shower stall grunted just loud enough to be heard over the running water, but Will ignored it. They all did what they had to do. It barely even registered when the water shut off and Sanborn exited the stall. He slowly wrapped his own towel around himself and stood two sinks down from Will, water glistening brightly on his dark skin.

“Did it help?” Sanborn suddenly asked.

“Not really,” Will admitted.

“Yeah, me neither.”

“Let’s go back to my billet and get shitfaced.” Will stepped into a fresh uniform. The thought of his lonely, quiet room scared the fuck out of him.

“It ain’t gonna fix anything.” JT pulled his t-shirt over his head.

“No, but at least I won’t give a shit about any of it for awhile.”

Sanborn was silent for a long while. “Yeah, alright.”

Will ignored the loosening of his chest.

Together they laced up their boots and tossed their gear into their kits. The walk to Will’s billet was short. Rank, however slight, had its privileges.

JT was propped on Will’s bunk. He held the bottle, three-quarters empty, and used it to emphasize the point he was making.

“You are a cold motherfucker when the shit’s on.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” Will scoffed, taking a drag of his cigarette.

“Seriously.” Sanborn took a drink, then passed the bottle to Will. “You get this steely-eyed focus and your hands stay steady. You bark out clear orders. You even take good care of your men.”

“That’s crap,” Will dismissed. JT had lost his mind. Will was a bomb tech. The US Army decided the guy in the suit got to be in charge and that’s the only reason Will ever became a team leader.

“I mean it,” JT insisted. “When we were sniping in the desert. How you dealt with Owen when Cambridge got himself blown up. Even staying with that car bomb outside the UN building.”

Will got up and paced his room. He preferred Sanborn’s animosity to his praise.

“You just don’t know what to do with yourself when you’re _not_ seconds away from dying,” Sanborn finished quietly.

Will’s teeth clenched at the truth of JT’s words. “I thought you _couldn’t_ tell me why I am the way I am?”

“Oh, I know why you need your excitement high.” Sanborn pushed off of Will’s bunk and stalked across the room. “What I don’t know is why you can’t be happy without the risk.”

Will stepped into JT’s space. “And you can?”

“Yeah, I can.”

“That’s ‘cause it’s all you know,” Will snapped, shoving hard at Sanborn’s shoulder and knocking him back several steps. “You don’t have the balls to strap on the suit. You’ll never know what it’s like to really be alive.”

Sanborn shoved Will backward. “I already know. I’m not half-dead like you are.”

Will’s punch connected solidly with Sanborn’s jaw and he stumbled back but didn’t go down. Instead, he charged Will. Their bodies slammed against the flimsy wall of the billet. Will remembered the last time they’d done this. He’d ended up with a knife to his throat and he’d gotten a hard-on over it.

Sanborn delivered two hard gut punches and Will grunted at the impact and the pain. He lifted his knee but Sanborn was quick and he dodged Will’s attempt and tossed him across the small room with two fists in his t-shirt.

Will landed hard on his back and before he could catch his breath and launch a counterattack, Sanborn was astride his body.

“You want me to slit your throat this time?” Sanborn asked breathlessly as his weight pinned Will to the floor.

“You don’t have the balls,” Will growled, lifting his hips in a bid for freedom. He was vaguely aware of the stirring in his cock.

JT used both hands to shove Will’s shoulders flat. “Not having a death wish ain’t the same as not having balls.”

Will laughed at the absurdity of that. He bucked and twisted again, biting back a gasp as his growing erection brushed against JT’s ass. Some part of his brain thought he felt a slight press of hardness against his own belly as JT’s weight shifted.

“It must be miserable for you to be home.”

Sanborn’s softly-spoken words ceased Will’s struggles. He hated that about himself. He knew he should like the tranquility of being stateside. Will knew he should have strong feelings for his son. He should want to stay home and raise him. He didn’t, though. Each time he was home, all he could think about was getting back.

Will redoubled his efforts and this time his hard cock pressed firmly against JT’s ass. He wanted to leave it there, grind against him and get off as quick as possible. His motions rocked JT forward and this time he was sure he felt a hard dick press into his belly.

“See?” JT taunted from above him. “You’re only happy when you’re in the middle of the shit.”

Sanborn shifted and Will thought to press his advantage but he froze when he felt his belt loosen. JT worked Will’s trousers free. Will gasped at the feel of JT’s warm hand sliding into his skivvies and wrapping around his cock.

“A man who doesn’t appreciate life has a _son_,” JT muttered, seemingly to himself. “That just ain’t right.”

Will groaned as JT stroked his freed erection. His grip was tight and his hands were rough and Will pressed up into it, seeking more. Reflexively, he brought one hand up to grip JT’s wrist above the hand pressing him to the floor. His other hand grabbed onto JT’s thigh.

He heard the rustling of fabric and the clanking of metal. Will gasped when he felt the slide of JT’s cock against his own.

“Never feels the same as it does after a mission, does it?” JT asked in a rough voice. “Coming never feels as good as it does after the high.”

Will grunted his agreement and his approval. He hated that it was true. He never came as hard into a woman’s pussy as he did into a man’s hand, his own or another’s, after he’d stared down death.

JT spit into his hand and fisted both of their cocks. His weight kept Will pinned. He couldn’t thrust up into the friction. He could only lie there and let JT do the work. Will’s erection slid quickly against JT’s at the same time he was stroked hard and fast.

“Oh fuck,” Will whispered, pushing up into JT’s weight. His spine bowed and his balls started to lift.

Even with his eyes squeezed shut, Will could feel JT’s body shudder and rock against him. He felt the warm, wet heat of jizz landing on his t-shirt-covered belly. It was JT’s suppressed swearing and his loud groan that finally toppled Will over the edge.

JT was right. All the adrenaline still spiking through his system made his orgasm roll violently through his body. He shouted, arched and felt his come land over JT’s fist. When it passed, he slumped against the floor. Will breathed heavily through his nose, trying to steady himself. He felt JT wipe his hand off against his chest. He looked down to see streaks of his own come on his soiled t-shirt.

Will sighed heavily but didn’t move when JT stood. Will felt bereft without the weight of JT’s body pressing him down. He listened to the sounds of trousers being fastened and the metal clank as JT fastened his belt. Will knew he should tuck himself back in and stand up. He just couldn’t bring himself to do it.

“Go home tomorrow,” Will said, just as JT reached for the door of his billet. “Go home and give your woman your sperm. Have yourself a son. Stay home and raise him.”

JT left without answering.


End file.
